


a lesson in Humility

by On_Sonnshine



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, M/M, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 04:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Sonnshine/pseuds/On_Sonnshine
Summary: Virgil stares up at him incredulously.He looksfine, hesounds, fine. He'd just...dragged himself through the dirt and he lookedfine- more than, he seemed just as peppy as he always did. Virgil had only felt the second-hand sensations and gotten an earful of a portion of what Roman had been saying, and he was nearly hyperventilating.A distant part of him wishes he had that ability, just before his stomach clenches, painfully so.





	a lesson in Humility

**Author's Note:**

> Logan, Patton, and Deceit are only in the background, as is the Prinxiety- it's hinted towards occasionally and there is a bit of a romantic bit right at the end, but other than that, it goes unmentioned.  
  
Also- 'Happy ending' is relative- it's more 'hopeful' rather than 'happy'.  
  
_(Excuse the overuse of italics and bold if you can, Roman's a very intense fellow)_

With movie night long since over, and Patton and Roman having drifted back upstairs with pleasant parting words, Logan and Virgil had made themselves comfortable, settling into comfortable silence.  
  
Logan had summoned a book almost as soon as they finished Toy Story 2, curling himself into the corner of the recliner. Virgil showed due interest before turning his attentions to his phone.  
  
But by now, he’s just beginning to doze off, phone hanging loosely from his fingers.  
  
Virgil jolts back awake, wide-eyed and alarmed, as his entire body alights with nausea.  
  
He grabs at his stomach, curling into himself. Horrid sensations swirl in his chest, his stomach, crawling up his throat and choking him, anxiety, fear, crippling self-hatred, but it’s not his- it’s slipping away from him already. That doesn’t mean anything- the initial shot had Virgil feeling like a drowned cat, anyways, and he pushes himself up on an arm.  
  
_Upstairs_, his mind supplies helpfully, the sensations weren’t his, but upstairs. He can feel it, the tug from upstairs, and he blinks.  
  
_Patton?_  
  
‘Virgil? Are you alright?’  
  
Virgil blinks, looks up. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.  
  
Logan is watching him, book lowered into his lap, concerned frown only illuminated by the TV.  
  
‘Uh...yeah, yeah. Yeah,’ Virgil roughly scrubs a hand over his face, ‘I uh...i’m thinkin’ i’m gonna.’  
  
Virgil jerks a thumb to the stairs, fumbling up to his feet, tucking his phone away into his pocket, ‘Head to bed.’  
  
Logan nods. He doesn’t look very convinced.  
  
‘Very well. Goodnight.’  
  
Virgil nods, mumbling in kind, legs already ascending the staircase without his own consent- he blinks up at Patton’s door, at the crude painting of clouds and sky, a smiling sun high on the door. If’s off-center. Virgil smiles to himself against the fact that the sensations had only grown stronger with his ascent.  
  
He raps his knuckles on the door gently, shuffling his feet.  
  
It only takes a few moments before the door swings inwards, and he’s met with a smiling Patton, already dressed in his pajamas, toothbrush still in hand.  
  
‘Heya kiddo!’ Patton chirps, hands settling on his hips.  
  
Virgil leans against the door-frame, nodding.  
  
‘Hey,’ Virgil shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, hooking his thumbs beneath his waist-band, ‘Uh...you feelin’ okay, Pat?’  
  
Patton blinks at him, giving a good-natured, if confused, grin.  
  
‘Yea, of course, Virge. Why do you ask?’  
  
Virgil considers him. He still felt the tug, but it wasn’t towards Patton. It was further away, some place to his left, and he was gaining quite the proficiency in identifying Patton’s fake smiles…  
  
‘Just...worrying, y’know. Kinda comes with the whole ‘anxiety’ gig.’ Virgil rolls a shoulder, huffing a soft laugh and pushing himself off the door-frame.  
  
‘Sorry to bother you. ‘Night.’  
  
Patton cocks his head, brows arching, giving him a bit of a warning look- if a very gentle one.  
  
‘Hey, no bother! ‘Night, Vee. Love you!’ Virgil huffs, flushing a little as Patton moves to shut the door.  
  
‘Love you too, Pat.’  
  
With the click of the door still in his ears, Virgil moves on.  
  
He considers Deceit’s door, square at the end of the hall. He heads for it, preparing himself for the rough conversation he was bound to have.  
  
That’s the plan.  
  
Virgil lets out a sharp gasp, stumbling near to his knees as the sensations rear up in him, hand barely catching himself on the wall- the pain is no different than that of a feral dog tearing into the softness of his stomach and chest.  
  
He looks up, blinking the tears from his vision.  
  
Blurred colours- red, gold, white. Virgil wipes at his eyes, nearly catching himself with a nail.  
  
Roman’s door.  
  
Virgil gapes- he can’t help it. He leans hard against the wall, closing his eyes to ride out the wave of pain. Roman.  
  
_How could it be_ _**Roman?**_ _The worst he’d ever felt was from Patton and it had only made him nauseous- he hadn’t been_ _**incapacitated.**_  
  
Virgil straightens, scrubbing a hand over his face again. Even as the horrid sensations assault his stomach, he’s distinctly aware of his own potent concern- why wouldn’t he be concerned? If he felt this awful, he couldn’t _imagine_ how Roman must’ve felt.  
  
_Why wouldn’t he say anything?_  
  
Virgil knocks on the door.  
  
_Virgil had gotten into the rhythm of going to Roman at almost any time he began to feel truly awful, and he’d tried his best to assure Roman that it was very much a two-way street, had he made the other Side feel unwelcome?_  
  
He knocks again.  
  
_Did he think that Virgil hadn’t meant it? Had Virgil given him reason to think that?_  
  
Virgil wrings his hands. He hated to do this.  
  
He twists the door-knob- frowns at the resistance he’s met with. Roman never locked his door. He never remembered to. He never remembered to, Virgil had teased him countless times for his forgetfulness.  
  
Virgil takes in a deep breath.  
  
He hated doing this- it was blatantly crossing an unspoken boundary. They were never to do this. If the door was locked, the Side contained within didn’t want to be barged in on. That was obvious. They were all expected to respect that.  
  
Virgil closes his eyes. He opens them again seconds after, facing Roman’s room.  
  
They were all expected to respect that, even if they could easily bypass the lock.  
  
But he doesn’t get the luxury of really feeling the guilt, because instead, he jolts. Roman’s voice resounds in the bathroom, loud and clear. For a moment, the words are garbled gibberish to his addled mind, and he steps closer, running a nervous hand through his hair.  
  
‘_How can you expect them to respect you when you_ _**continue**_ _to behave so immaturely?_’  
  
Virgil blinks.  
  
‘_Getting emotional so easily isn’t an attractive trait._’  
  
Virgil’s walking closer now with trembling steps. _He couldn’t be talking to anyone, Patton was in his room and Logan was downstairs and neither Deceit nor Remus would just stand and take it-_  
  
‘_And really- crying over a children’s film? Not to mention one you’ve seen_ **_multiple_** _times before-_’ Roman barks a strained laugh, ‘_You’re_ **_pathetic._** _You’d best shape up before they realize what a pitiful excuse for a Prince they’re truly living with._’  
  
Virgil places a hand to the door, leaning in. His stomach twists into knots.  
  
‘_How do you think_ **_Virgil_** _would react if he found out how_ **_weak_** _you are?_’ Virgil chokes a little, chest tightening, both at the mention of his name and the rushed realization of what he’s hearing, ‘_He’d surely leave you on the spot. He’s_ **_so_** _much stronger than_ **_you_** _could ever be._’  
  
Roman’s voice is rising, now, thick with emotion. Virgil’s eyes sting. He feels as though a shard of ice is lodged between his ribs.  
  
‘_What’s_ **_wrong_** _with you?_’ He hisses, each syllable dripping with venom, ‘_Why do they even need you? They don’t. Even Remus could easily take your place. You need to be_ _**stronger,**_ _you need to work_ _**harder,**_ _you need to quit slacking before they realize how_ _**worthless**_ _you are!_’  
  
Virgil tries to calm his frantic breathing, knocking on the door quite a bit harder than intended. The knocks echo, seeming deafening in the silence that follows.  
  
‘Er, one moment!’  
  
Virgil shuffles, shifting backwards, cramming his hands into his pockets.  
  
The door opens, and there stands Roman, still dressed in full Prince garb, beaming at him. Not a hair out of place.  
  
Something deep inside of Virgil twists.  
  
‘The best of evenings, my heart! To what do I owe the pleasure?’  
  
Virgil stares up at him incredulously.  
  
He looks _fine_, he _sounds_, fine. He'd just...dragged himself through the dirt and he looked _fine_\- more than, he seemed just as peppy as he always did. Virgil had only felt the second-hand sensations and gotten an earful of a portion of what Roman had been saying, and he was nearly hyperventilating.  
  
A distant part of him wishes he had that ability, just before his stomach clenches, painfully so.  
  
Roman is looking at him intently, idly pinching and worrying the places between his fingers on his left hand, and he clears his throat. Rubs his clammy hands against the rough fabric of his jeans.  
  
'I-...Roman...' He inhales, and blurts the next few words on his exhale, 'A-are you okay?'  
  
His voice cracks on the 'are', and he twitches.  
  
Roman's brows furrow lightly, and he rubs his knuckles over his palm. Blinks.  
  
'Yes, of course.'  
  
A rock sits heavy in Virgil's gut. Distantly, he knows Roman is asking if he himself is alright, but he can't find it in himself to respond. _Fuck. How long has Roman been doing this? How long has he been acting like he's okay? How could Virgil not have_ _**noticed?**_ _Noticed that this was so much worse than- than a simple insecurity-_  
  
Virgil swallows again. He weakly gestures to the bathroom door, stammering.  
  
'I-...Roman I-...i've been here for a few minutes, I ff-f-fffelt...felt your anxiety across the- the mindscape. I...I heard...' Virgil jerks in the direction of the bathroom, trailing off.  
  
Roman stares at him, unblinking. _Something_ flashes across his face.  
  
_How long has he been_ _**doing this?**_ _How long has he been suffering like this?_  
  
_**Alone?**_  
  
_Why hadn't he_ _**noticed?**_  
  
They'd relentlessly teased him for how over-the-top his acting was, but if _this_ was any indication...Virgil swallows around the bittersweet sense of irony sinking into his chest, and he blinks rapidly, clearing the mist in his eyes.  
  
A horrible, sick sensation blooms deep in his stomach, and Virgil knows, instantly, that it's not his own- well. The anxiety is partially his, there's no doubt about that, but he can practically feel the turmoil radiating off of the other Side.  
  
'I...wh-why didn't you s-_say_ anything? I- I've talked to you- plenty of times, I...how long has...' He vaguely gestures to both Roman and the bathroom in tandem, '..._This_ been going on? How long have you been...hiding your problems away and...and dealing with them like this?'  
  
Roman looks like he's drowning. His mouth moves wordlessly, moments before he deflates, his shoulders falling all at once and a frown overtaking his features.  
  
He looks like Virgil- on a bad day.  
  
Virgil hates that.  
  
'I don't know. A while?' He shakes his head, reaching up to rub at his temple, 'Years? Long before you came to stay.'  
  
Virgil can _feel_ an intense surge of nausea, and he grips at his stomach over his shirt. Shrugs deeper into his hoodie. He doesn't know if the nausea is due to his anxiety or due to Roman's.  
  
He knows, _knows_, he's going to hate himself for this, much later, once he's back in his room, once he's able to really mull this over.  
  
'Ro...you...you didn't answer my first question.'  
  
Roman tenses. He waves a hand, lifting his shoulders again, his free hand propping on his hip.  
  
'Virgil, is this really necessary? So you caught me at a low point,' He winces, almost imperceptibly, 'I'm alright.'  
  
Roman looks to him, surging forward and taking Virgil's hand between his own two.  
  
'I would tell you if I couldn't handle a few rainy days.' Roman smiles at him, puts his whole face into it, eyes crinkling at the edges- Virgil's stomach rolls, and he's dangerously close to vomiting.  
  
'Don't...' Virgil inhales, wriggling his hand free to grab onto Roman's, giving it a hard squeeze, 'Please don't lie to me.'  
  
Virgil looks up at him, ignoring the wild-eyed look he receives.  
  
'There's a difference between a few rainy days and-...' Virgil chokes.  
  
'And _that._ You- you...called yourself- called yourself w-_worthless._'  
  
Roman shifts uncomfortably on his feet, ducking his head. He avoids Virgil's gaze.  
  
Virgil hesitates.  
  
He shifts backwards, putting a bit more space between them, giving Roman more room to breathe. Softens his tone.  
  
'Roman,' His voice is quiet, not a whisper, but gentle, 'Why didn't you say anything?'  
  
Virgil pauses, before continuing.  
  
'You don't have to say anything. But...it's not healthy,' He pauses, 'To just...hold that stuff in.'  
  
There's a moment of silence, and Virgil gives Roman's hand another squeeze, gentler this time. Quietly, he asks Roman to look at him.  
  
Roman twitches, closes his eyes for a moment. He lifts his head. Virgil shudders a little.  
  
Roman's gaze is cold, but it takes a few moments for Virgil to realize that he's not quite looking at _him._ He holds no negative feelings towards _Virgil_, he's seen, plenty of times, what it looked like when Roman was glaring at _him_\- this wasn't that, not anywhere close.  
  
A tiny part of Virgil wishes that the gaze _was_ directed at him; that'd be much, much easier to stomach.  
  
Roman inhales slowly.  
  
'I...' He clears his throat, steadies himself, 'I never said anything because I...'  
  
His mouth twists at the corner, still closed, nearly a sneer.  
  
'I had hoped to convince you all that I...I didn't...I didn't want all of you to know...how...' He grits his teeth, ‘_Weak._ I am.'  
  
Virgil barks out a bit of a laugh, guilt twisting in his belly when Roman winces.  
  
'_Weak?_' He hopes that he sounds as bewildered as he feels.  
  
Roman twitches into a nod.  
  
_**Fuck.**_  
  
'Roman-' Virgil chokes off, sucks in a sharp breath, 'Roman look at me.'  
  
Roman flinches, this time, fully flinches, and a cold terror seeps into Virgil's bones. Not his. Not his.  
  
'Roman, please. Look at me.'  
  
Roman looks terrified. Of disgust. Contempt.  
  
Virgil's never quite been very romantically-inclined, but he wants, more than anything, to drag Roman into his arms and wax poetic about how much he loves him until maybe, Roman believes him. But he doesn't.  
  
He takes Roman's other hand, now holding both of them, and he firmly strokes a thumb over the Prince's knuckles.  
  
Virgil purses his lips, rubbing at the dip between Roman's knuckles. It takes him a moment to find the words he's looking for.  
  
He takes a breath, hitching mid-way. Tries to calm his own shakiness.  
  
'Roman, I need you to listen to me,' He catches Roman's eye, nodding, 'And fully understand what I'm saying to you. Okay?'  
  
Roman nods, head cocked just the slightest to the right, confused.  
  
'You are _not_ weak. Feeling bad, or- or having problems, doesn't make you weak.' His voice is a lot more confident than he feels.  
  
Roman looks away, brows arching, going to nod, but Virgil is already shifting, steeling himself.  
  
'I have bad feelings and problems all the time, Ro. You've reassured Patton about it multiple times. Am _I_ weak? Did you lie to Patton?' Virgil's brows lift, quite a bit more flippant on the last question, but it gets Roman to look up anyways.  
  
His hands tighten on Virgil's, eyes wide-  
  
'No! No, of- of _course_ not!' He blinks, shakes his head, swallows near audibly, 'And, and you _know_ I don't consider you weak, you're- you're the strongest...strongest person I've ever met, Virge, I merely...it's...'  
  
Roman shakes his head, mouth quirking to one side. Distantly, Virgil feels mean for quite obviously having prodded a sensitive spot.  
  
'It's different-' He snaps his mouth closed at the hand Virgil puts up.  
  
'No, it's not, you can't give me one reason-' 'Yes I can!'  
  
Roman's voice rises, and he instantly schools himself.  
  
'My...my apologies, Virgil, I just...' He huffs a frustrated noise, 'I'm a _Prince._'  
  
His voice breaks.  
  
'I'm _your_ Prince, Logan, Patton, _Thomas-_. I'm...I have to be strong, for all of you. I have to...' Roman waves a hand, beginning to look teary-eyed, 'I _have_ to be there to- to for one protect all of you, but, to...inject some love and sense into those stormy little heads of yours and I can't-'  
  
Roman chokes. Inhales, closes his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is steady, if quiet, and he holds Virgil's gaze.  
  
'I _**can’t**_ be that if...if my own head is filled with a hurricane.'  
  
He scoffs a sour laugh.  
  
'Not that there isn't more than enough room for it.' That part is muttered, just beneath his breath. Virgil barely makes it out.  
  
Virgil stares up at him. He feels frozen, feels as though there's some horrid beast chomping away at his innards, at the lining of his stomach, and he's numbly shaking his head.  
  
'You...you can't...you _can't_...you can't be- be that _hard_ on yourself, that's- that's too much responsibility-' Virgil shakes his head a little harder, as though he could clear his thoughts in that manner, 'You don’t _have_ to be ‘strong for us’, and you _definitely_ don’t have to be _all the time-_'  
  
Virgil swallows thickly, licking his lips, putting up a finger when Roman makes a noise to protest.  
  
'None of us can handle that much- that much weight on our shoulders, nobody, _nobody_ can always be okay.'  
  
Roman pulls his lips into a thin line, rubbing at the back of his neck. His eyes are narrowed, gaze fixated just to Virgil's left.  
  
'Don't look at me like that. I...listen.' Virgil lets go of Roman's grip to stuff his hands into his pockets.  
  
'I won't pretend. I've experienced what you...clearly feel. Not at this...level. At least. But I used to be...pretty close. If you'd let me, as long as it takes...i'll try my best to get it through to you that, being weak...it's not a 'bad thing', there's nothing _wrong_ with not being okay all the time, you don't need to be ashamed, and...'  
  
Virgil glances to the door again.  
  
'It's definitely not something to beat yourself up over. It doesn't- it doesn't make you _worthless_.'  
  
Roman looks, just about, ready to cry. His breath hitches, face crumpling.  
  
Virgil can feel a bolt of panic in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn't know if it's from him or Roman- but either way, he gently pulls on the Prince's arm. It's enough of an invitation for Roman, because he falls into Virgil, burying his face into Virgil's hair, and Virgil hooks his chin over the other Side's shoulder. He gently rubs at his back.  
  
'Th...thank you.' Roman's voice comes out on a croaking whisper, and Virgil's heart clenches.  
  
'I...I'll try my best, but I...I do...' Roman forces the next words out, trembling- if subtly- against Virgil, 'I do believe that I'll need your...your help, Virge. I've...i've been like this for so long I-'  
  
His voice catches, and he sighs shakily. Virgil pulls him in harder.  
  
'Old habits are hard to break. I'll help. Don't worry.' His voice is rougher, this time. Now that they're out of the thick of it, and he feels less like he wants to vomit than he had previously, he’s inclined to slip back into his regular tone- if a softer variant.  
  
Roman takes a breath and nods, just a bit, before closing his eyes and hiding his face in Virgil's shoulder.  
  
'Hey,' Virgil nudges Roman, 'Don't go falling asleep on me. C'mon.'  
  
Gently, he directs Roman to the bed, ignoring the horribly wrinkled and mussed blankets and sheets and the plushies strewn aimlessly about the large mattress.  
  
To himself, he's already preparing the PSA he's going to give to the others about keeping an eye on Roman, planning around the fact that Roman most likely won't want the others knowing about this. How he plans to tell them without telling them the _why_ is beyond him at the moment, but for then, he chooses to ignore it, turning his focus to comforting the prince.  
  
God knows Roman's done the same for him.  
  
...  
  
_Virgil flushes, rather vibrantly, fiddling with the edge of the sheet, grin quirking his mouth at the sight of Roman gripping Mrs. Fluffybottom, worrying one of her ears between his fingers._  
  
_'Roman...you could uh...you could sob uncontrollably from something as little as a...fucking...a fucking splinter, and you would still be just as much of the brave, strong prince that I...'_  
  
_Virgil's flush darkens._  
  
_'That I fell in love with.'_  
  
_Virgil glances up._  
  
_Roman is looking at him, and the absolute wonder and slight disbelief in his, still teary, eyes is enough to make Virgil offer a tentative smile just before Roman sets aside his rabbit and pulls the older Side back into his arms._  
  
_Virgil snorts, but it's watery, and he closes his eyes, chin settling onto Roman's head. His hands clutch at the back of Roman's tunic._  
  
_'Yeah yeah. Yuck it up.' His breath hitches, and he rubs Roman's back, huffing a little._  
  
_Roman giggles at him, gently rocking forward, and though the Prince can't see it, Virgil can't stop the fond smile curving his lips, even as he nudges Roman with his shoulder._  
  
_'Quiet.' He jabs, but Roman just hums, nuzzling into his neck with a content grin._

**Author's Note:**

> Unmentioned context; the reason he's upset is because they'd just prior watched Toy Story 2 and he got a little teary and no one Noticed but his self-esteem was like '_**AH**_'


End file.
